By Matt Napolitano, Humor Columnist
Show of hands. Raise them if you have used your bracket as any of the following:
Ripped a piece to throw out your gum
Threatening letter to Mike Krzyzewski
Dispensation of phone number
If not, then you must have picked Ohio and Xavier in the championship and are not a friend of mine.
I personally lost two Final Four teams last weekend in the inaugural rounds of March Madness, one of them in the Round of 64 (Missouri, never speak to me again). Everyone got hit by Friday's Hurricane Irene-esque bracketology. I don't care if you're the clown who picked Lehigh on a whim, you lost a game. Either way, my March Madness is slowly turning into April Apathy.
I really have lost care. Knowing I can't win a couple bucks, I've lost a concern for who will win. For the last weekend, I have combined cramming for midterms with stress-inducing nail biters of games between the likes of a top school and a school I had no idea existed.
'But, Matt, those are the best kinds of games.' Who are you and why are you in my home?
Look, I love an upset as much as anyone, but when it's causing the slow and painful death of my bracket, I just can't. If this were during the season, I would be mesmerized. I would write a poem about it. I would hope that after the upset a unicorn would appear out of the sky (Note: Never hire a seven-year-old to write your column for you, not even one as eloquent as the one who wrote those last couple of sentences).
I just find myself to be like many fans: if the teams that I am pulling for are out of it, I get distracted easily. If the teams I am rooting for are involved, I can't be pulled away from my television, or my laptop for when I'm in class and don't feel like watching "Good Night and Good Luck" for the 34,679th time.
Now, I'm not all about the money. Trust me, if you saw my Citibank statement, you'd think it was the ledger for the Mets. However, I think we all have that same feeling when we can't win cash. I take it from growing up and watching my parents eagerly staring at the TV awaiting Lotto numbers. Once you were out one number, you'd tear up the ticket and move on to the next day of your life. It's the same for all of us. We rip our bracket apart today and we'll be back next year, ready to bet, and ready to watch top-seeded universities with multi-million dollar backers fall to the likes of a South Florida or a Norfolk State.
I guess I can enjoy it for now and throw it on in the background while I rip what's left of my hair out of my scalp (St. Baldrick's, amazing cause, shout-out to Hofstra Roller Hockey). And come to think of it, I'm not really looking forward to baseball season. I'm a Mets fan. Family Guy already told me how that story will go.
So, I guess it's either the Sweet 16 or watch whatever shenanigans those Kardashians are up to. You win, Xavier, you win.